Miracle on the Rue Scribe
by broadwaygirl818
Summary: The Christmas season has arrived, but the little family by the lake isn't very festive thanks to one particular opera ghost.  Then, their little girl becomes deathly ill.  Will the magic of Christmas save her?  Will it change Erik?  Christmas fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Before you guys punjab me for starting yet ANOTHER story, hear me out, please. This is a Christmas story, so I wanted to post it this week. It's a short story, and I'm still writing the others, so don't panic.**

**The idea for this story hit me after I watched _Miracle on 34th Street _for the first time on Thanksgiving. The mother made me wonder how Erik would handle the Santa Claus situation. This is just a bit of Christmas-Phantom fluff for you guys, and I hope you enjoy it.**

**Chapter One**

"No! Absolutely not!"

Christine winced. While she had expected her husband to not agree, she hadn't anticipated an outburst. "Erik," she began, "surely you don't mean that. Be reasonable. It's not safe around the house, and..."

"You should know better than to wander around when I'm gone, my dear," he reminded her with a scowl on his face. "Besides, you have no need to leave the house."

Under normal circumstances, she would have dropped the subject. After nine years of marriage, she was no stranger to her husband's iron will. Yet, two small faces were in her mind, and she knew they deserved better. "I might know better, but what about Carmen and William? If they were trapped in one of your chambers, they wouldn't be able to escape. It's already bad enough that William is fascinated by your lasso."

Raising an eyebrow, Erik said, "They won't leave the house alone if I talk to them." From his standpoint, that was a very logical solution, for both children knew that their father was more... _creative _when it came to planning punishments. Christine, however, shook her head. "William won't listen."

"How many times have you said that he takes after his father's intellect? He knows not to defy me."

"He's also obstinate, which is another trait he has gained from his father. And, Carmen will tag along, like always." The petite brunette smirked slightly as Erik gave her an exasperated look. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a sneeze. Both parents were silent for a moment. Then, as he moved towards the bedroom door, Erik said, "I can tell you one thing that our children didn't learn from me." Christine saw his plan and grinned. "What, pray tell, would that be, oh genius one?" Placing his hand on the doorknob, he promptly answered, "Eavesdropping." Then, he opened the door, and two children tumbled inside the room. They quickly rose to their feet. Eight-year-old Carmen looked properly ashamed of herself, while six-year-old William looked nonchalant.

"Carmen," Christine gently addressed her daughter, who was more likely to tell the truth. "Why were you listening to your parent's conversation without permission?"

The eight year old's large brown eyes met the identical ones of her mother's. "I'm sorry, Mama, but William said you and Papa were fighting, and I was worried."

"I did not!" protested William defiently. Christine smiled. While Carmen was like a cherub, William was more inclined to be like his father. Both of them were pretty children, much to Erik's relief. Carmen had black hair, rosy cheeks, and warm brown eyes, and William had his mother's wavy chestnut hair and father's brown eyes that were flecked with gold.

"Do not tell lies, William," Erik cautioned his son. "They don't become a little boy."

"I'm not a little boy!" he indignantly exclaimed.

"Of course you aren't," Christine told him soothingly. "You're a little man. That's so much bigger than a little boy."

Pacified by his mother, William crawled over to her and sat in her lap. Like father, like son; William was devoted to Christine. True, he turned to his father when he needed help with an intellectual problem, but he absolutely adored his mother like mortals adore angels.

"Were you fighting?" Carmen asked nervously. Her father bent down and kissed her cheek, and her mother smiled. "Mama and Papa don't always agree with each other," she explained. "And, sometimes we do argue. But, we will always, _always _love each other, just like we will always love you."

"I'm glad," said William, relieved. "You and Papa won't fight anymore, will you?" The two parents met each other's eyes, and Erik smiled slyly. "Not today, son," he promised. "Your Mama and I have reached an agreement."

Christine sighed. _Oh, no we haven't, Erik, _she silently vowed. _You aren't the only one in this family who's stubborn._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Christine had taken Carmen and William with her to visit Meg and her children later that week. As the two women sat together drinking tea, the children played in one of the other rooms.

"I still can't believe Erik said no," Meg commented sympathetically.

"I can," Christine muttered. "He's so stubborn."

"Did you tell him that it's endangering the childern's lives?"

"Yes, but he just said he would talk to them." She sighed in frustration. "I just don't know what to do, Meg. I thought that eventually, he would be ready to move on his own. But, he's so attached to that ridiculous basement of his."

"Well, he _is _known as a phantom," Meg replied reasonably. Christine rolled her eyes. "Meg! You're supposed to be on my side!" she accused jokingly. Her blond friend laughed. "Oh, I'm always on your side, Christine," she assured. "Would you like me to ask Robert to talk to him?" Robert was Meg's husband. Christine smiled, hardly believing that so much time had passed since she and Meg were chorus girls in the opera populaire. Technically, they were both still young, but they were no longer the same naive little girls they had ten years ago.

"No, that's alright; he'll only be angry that someone is meddling in his business. You know how he is about his privacy."

Meg laughed again. "Don't we all?" Meg had been horrified when Christine announced her engagement to the notorious opera ghost. But, after meeting Erik and seeing how much he and Christine truly loved each other, she had given the couple her blessing. She had never seen beneath his mask; she accepted it as though it was his face, as did Robert, for which Christine was immensely thankful. Robert and Meg were Erik's only real friends, and their families met often.

Just then, Anthony - Meg's youngest boy - ran into his mother's sitting room, followed closely by William. Christine groaned when she saw little Anthony's tears and William's defiant expression. While the boys were the same age, William was years ahead of Anthony intellectually, much like Erik must have been when he was a child. Anthony ran straight to Meg and buried his head in her skirts. "What's wrong, dear?" she asked worriedly.

"William says that Santa Claus isn't real!" the youngster wailed.

"He isn't," stated William matter-of-factly. "Papa would have told me if he was."

The two women exchanged exasperated looks. Much to Christine's dismay, Erik refused to have his children believe that "an elderly fat man dressed in a red suit traveled around the entire earth in one night and left every child a present." He insisted that it wasn't practical or logical to encourage a belief in something that wasn't real. He wouldn't allow them to go to Chrismas Eve Mass for the same reason.

"William, it isn't your place to tell Anthony that."

"But, Mama, I can't let him keep believing a lie!" He was quickly silenced by a look from Christine. "Apologize, William."

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "Trust me, it's won't happen again."

"Run along now and play, boys." With that, the two boys ran out of the room as though nothing had happened. Their mothers, however, were obviously not going to forget the incident that easily.

"Meg, I'm sorry," Christine apologized, her face red with shame. "William is much like Erik and believes anything his father tells him, and..."

"It's fine," Meg interrupted with a small smile. "The funny part is that I can understand Erik's point of view."

"I can, too, but it seems like he's doing everything within his power to prevent Christmas from being special." Christmas had been Christine's favorite day of the year for as long as she could remember, and it hurt that Erik refused to celebrate it. Oh, he allowed her to buy presents for Carmen and William, but he didn't participate in the festivities. Her sad expression didn't go unnoticed by Meg. "You'll find a way to make Christmas special in spite of Erik," she promised. "After all, he was originally just as opposed to you having children, wasn't he? Christmas is the season of miracles. Pray that one will happen with your family."

Christine grinned. "While we're praying for miracles, can we pray that Erik changes his mind about the house?"

Meg's grin echoed Christine as she giggled, "Already done!"

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Looking confused, Meg rose to answer it, saying, "Robert certainly is home early!" But, when she opened the door, her husband's familiar face wasn't the one to greet her.

"May I help you?" she inquired politely. An elderly man shabbily dressed in an old, worn coat was standing outside of her door.

"Excuse me for disturbing you," he began apologetically, "but I was wondering if you would be so kind as to share a piece of bread with an old man?" He smiled, and Meg wondered at the kindness in his smile.

"Of course," she immediately replied. "Come inside." She led the way into the house into her sitting room. Christine looked confused but didn't say a word as Meg handed the man some tea and gave him some of the biscuits and pastries that were on the tray. "I'll have Ellen heat some soup," Meg told him with a smile after she had instructed him to sit by the fire. Then, she left. Christine tried not to stare; after all, her husband was certainly as odd-looking than a homeless man.

"Your friend is too kind," he said in a pleasant tone.

"She is," Christine agreed. "Meg is the type of person who is always willing to help others."

The man set down his tea, rose, and extended his hand. "Speaking of names, I don't believe we have been properly introduced." Following his example, Christine set her own tea down and shook his hand. "Please forgive me. My name is Christine Burnett. And, yours is?"

"Kris," the man said as he raised her hand politely to his lips. "Kris Kringle."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Wha... what did you say?" Christine couldn't believe her ears. Perhaps she had heard wrong. But, the man smiled understandingly.

"My name is Kris Kringle," he repeated.

_So, maybe it's a coincidence, _the logical side of her brain argued. While she wanted to let her children believe in Santa Claus, she personally didn't believe he existed. Besides, even if he _did_, he certainly wouldn't be wearing rags and be so thin. Dismissing her inhibitions, she said, "It's nice to meet you, Monsieur Kringle."

He had, however, noticed her uneasiness. "Don't worry," he assured her. "My name bothers everyone when they first hear it, especially adults." She laughed in relief as Meg re-entered the room with a tray of soup. "Here you go, Monsieur." She paused. "Oh, do forgive me! My name is Meg Girand. I see you have met my friend already."

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Girand." Both ladies couldn't help but notice the way he used the British titles and spoke with an accent. Not that they minded; they just found it interesting that a homeless man seemed to be so well-traveled. "I'm Kris Kringle."

Christine barely suppressed her laughter as Meg's mouth dropped open slightly. "I'm sorry?" she asked, shocked. Fortunately, Mr. Kringle laughed pleasantly. "I know; it's hard to believe. My mother, however, had a broad sense of humor. You can rest assured that I don't believe I'm Santa Claus," he jested, his eyes twinkling with merriment.

The small group retired to their chairs and began making light conversation. It was soon discovered that Mr. Kringle had fallen into a great deal of bad luck and had lost both his wife and his home in a matter of months. He worked as a chimney sweep, but lately, he had been finding it hard to find work. Meg and Christine exchanged glances that cleary said, _Poor man... what can we do to help? _

When Mr. Kringle mentioned that he loved horses, Meg clapped her hands in excitement. "I know! My husband and I have been in need someone to help tend to our horses. Would you be interested in accepting a position with us, Mr. Kringle?"

Christine smiled. _Leave it to Meg to find him a good job without sounding nosy or patronizing._

"That's very generous of you, Mrs. Girand. I won't deny that I'm in need of a job. If you're sure it's quite alright with your husband..."

Meg waved dismissively. "Believe me, he'll be glad he won't have to interview applicants. We'll give you a room and meals plus wages if you can start immediately." And, just like that, Mr. Kringle had a job.

A yell was heard, and moments later, all of the children were in the sitting room. "Mama, Elijah tried to kiss me!" Carmen cried.

"It was only on the cheek," argued Meg's older son, who was only a month older than Carmen. "We were pretending to be married, and husbands kiss their wives on the cheek all of the time."

"My Papa kisses Mama on the lips," commented William in his usual tactless manner.

"Ew," was Anthony's response.

"And, William continued," if Papa knew that you tried to kiss Carmen, he would strangle you with his magical lasso, for she's not allowed to have suitors until she's a hundred years old."

"William!" Christine exclaimed, her face swiftly turning scarlet. "That's enough. You know Papa is joking when he says Carmen has to be a hundred before she has suitors."

"He sounded quite serious, Mama."

"I won't even be alive when I'm a hundred," cried Carmen, teary-eyed. "Does Papa mean for me to never marry?"

"I'm sure that's not what your papa means, child," said Mr. Kringle. "He only loves you so much that he's afraid you'll be a grown woman too fast."

Silence filled the room as the children noticed the elderly man for the first time. Fascinated, Carmen asked, "Really?"

"Yes, really," he promised. "When you're old enough and ready, he'll allow you to court the right man. Until then, you have to trust that your papa knows what's best for you."

Gratefully, Christine smiled at him. "Mr. Kringle is right, Carmen. You're only a very little girl right now, so you shouldn't be accepting kisses from boys. Wait until you're older; you'll have plenty of suitors soon enough."

Meanwhile, Meg had pulled Elijah to her side. "What have I told you about wooing Carmen?"

"But, Mama, she's _pretty," _explained Elijah as though that made it alright.

"You don't want Uncle Erik to be angry with you, don't you?"

Elijah thought for a moment. He and his brother loved Uncle Erik very much, but at times, he could be a bit scary. "No, I don't," he answered reluctantly.

"I thought not. Wait eight more years before you try to woo her again," his mama advised.

"Make that twenty," William added.

_"William!"_

"Alright, alright! Fifteen," he altered.

"Who's our guest, Mama?" Anthony asked with interest as he gazed at the elderly man with the shining eyes and kind smile.

"He's our new groom, Anthony," explained his mother. "His name is Mr. Kringle." It went without saying that the children weren't to know his full name.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kringle." Elijah stuck out his hand in a very grown-up way, to the amusement of all of the adults in the room. Fortunately, Mr. Kringle gamely humored the lad and shook his hand, bringing a smile to Christine's lips.

"What a good, strong handshake!" he said. "How old are you?"

"I'm eight, monsieur."

"Why, you're practically a man!" Elijah beamed proudly.

"Eight is hardly a man," the ever-optimistic William observed.

"Well, how old are you?"

"I'm six."

"But, you sound like a man already." Mr. Kringle stated, frowning ever so slightly. "I just hope you still believe in Christmas magic!"

"There's no such thing as magic."

"Pish-posh!" The other children giggled at the silly phrase. "After all, Christmas is the time of miracles!"

"You mean coincidences," William corrected. "Miracles don't happen."

Mr. Kringle's frown deepened. "What about you?" he inquired of the other children. "Do you believe in miracles?"

"I do!" cried Elijah and Anthony in unison. Carmen looked at the ground. "What about you, my dear?" he asked the little girl gently.

She raised her head, sadness in her eyes. "I wish I could believe in miracles, but my Papa won't let me."

The kindly old man reached out and put his hand on her head. "You're a dear child," he told her. "I do believe that you yourself are living miracle."

Their exchange didn't go unnoticed by Christine._ He's so good with children, _she thought as she watched the way he had soothed Carmen's anxieties. _I'll certainly have to bring the children to visit him._ Then, she smiled as an idea hit her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

A few days later, Christine was in the master bedroom wrapping presents for her children. Christmas was only in a week, and she had finally finished all of her shopping. Engrossed in trying to hold down the wrapping paper and bind it with string, she didn't see Erik sneaking up behind her. When a pair of lips touched her neck, she jumped, undoing all of her hard work.

"Erik! You scared me," she accused. "How many times do I have to ask you to stop sneaking up on me before you finally listen?"

He chuckled. "I like sneaking up on you, dear," he said lightly, kissing her cheek. "You're so adorable when you're scared."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, if you're going to come down here and bother me, you can make yourself useful." She handed him the package. "Hold down the paper while I tie this string around it."

"Your wish is my command." Obediently, he held down the paper until she at last managed to finish wrapping the present. Setting it down, she sighed. "There, it's all done now."

"They are very lovely," he complimented politely.

"It's too bad we don't have a tree to put all of these under," she murmured. He snorted. "How do you expect me to manage bringing a tree here without being seen?"

"The same way you managed with your organ, I suppose."

"I built it down here; that's quite a different matter." She sighed and decided to take a different approach. "Erik, are you quite sure that I can't buy you a present?"

"Quite sure, darling. I told you that I won't take part in deceiving Carmen and William/"

Christine winced. It sounded as though she was being cruel when he put it that way. "Still, you buy me presents all of the time, and I never have a chance to return the favor."

Smiling, he took her hand in his own. "Christine, you have given me the best present simply by being here with me now," he said sincerely. "Isn't that enough for your benevolent spirit?"

"No," she insisted stubbornly. His smile grew, and they left their bedroom. Carmen was practicing her piano lesson while William had a number of sketches before him. His hair was disheveled, making him look very much like Erik. Christine bent down and kissed his forehead. "What is my little da Vinci creating?" she asked with interest.

"I'm trying to design a house for us," he grumbled as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Both parents looked at him, shocked. Then, Erik laughed. "Why do you feel the need to design a house for us, son? We already have one."

"This one is alright, but it doesn't have a good location."

Erik shot Christine an accusing glare, but she raised her hands to show that she had nothing to do with it. "What gave you such an idea, William?"

"Mr. Kringle was telling us about his house in the country when he was a boy," Carmen explained. "William and I started thinking that we would like to live above the ground." She fidgeted uncomfortably under her father's gaze. "That's not a bad thing to want, is it?"

Erik shook his head. "I was hoping I taught my children to be thankful for what they had," he said gravely.

"Oh, we are, Papa!" Carmen replied quickly. "William and I were just feeling silly, really." Everyone in the small family knew to stay on Erik's good side, and Carmen especially knew how to soothe him; only Christine could do it better. "We'll stop if you wish it, Papa."

"I think that would be best." Without another word, the two youngsters gathered all of the drawing supplies and put them away. Feeling somewhat bashful because of their father's obvious disapproval, they retreated into the library. Once they were gone, Erik turned to Christine.

"Who is Mr. Kringle?" he demanded. She internally groaned, for she heard the suspicion in his voice. "He's Meg and Robert's new head groom. He's a very nice elderly man, so please don't start any trouble," she added.

"If you don't want trouble, you will advise him to stop filling our children's heads with fluff. And, you would do well to remember that I have already said we aren't moving, and I don't intend to change my mind."

"Of course you won't change your mind; you're never wrong, are you?" she asked, irritation clear in her tone.

He sighed and sat down in his armchair, picking up a book. "I don't mind you celebrating Christmas with Carmen and William, but please remember to leave me out of it."

Christine shook her head sadly. "I understand," she said softly. She turned to leave, and then, she paused. "Perhaps _you _should remember that you're still a part of this family. The children and I want you to share this with us; please don't push us away."

Eyes softening, he rose and went to her, taking both of her hands. "I'm not trying to push you away," he told her softly. "But, the only miracle I have ever witnessed is the fact that you love me. I don't want our children to be hurt later in life by us allowing them to continue to harbor fantasies. I learned early in life that the best approach to life is head-on, and I'm tryign to help Carmen and William by making them practical." His eyes pleaded with her. She instantly pulled him to her for an embrace, but deep down, she knew he was wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**Please read and review! Merry Christmas!**

**Chapter Five**

Carmen hesitated before entering the stable. She knew Aunt Meg didn't mind when she went to see the horses, but that wasn't her reason for her visit today. The fact that her parents didn't know that she wasn't in the house didn't help ease her mind, either, but her errand was an urgent one. She clutched her drawing tightly as she listened to Mr. Kringle hum pleasantly. His voice didn't match the fine quality of her father's, of course, but he carried pitch well and and possessed a warm tone that she liked. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Mr. Kringle?"

The humming stopped as the elderly man turned to face her. "Why, it's Miss Carmen! And, how are you this fine December day, my dear?"

"I'm doing well, thank you. Yourself?" she inquired politely.

"Never better. But, I see something is troubling you," he added, examining her face closely. "Perhaps I can help you?"

Shyly, she handed him the drawing. He took it and looked it over for a moment. "Did you draw this?" When she nodded, he smiled. "It's a very nice picture, to be sure, but I don't see what it has to do with me."

"You... you believe in miracles, don't you?" He nodded, and she hurriedly continued. "Then, this is the miracle I want for Christmas. I want a new house."

His smile faded slightly as he examined the drawing once more. It was a small cottage with a garden in the front and trees in the background. While a house like that would be easy to find, it was the request itself that troubled him. "What makes you wish for a new house, Carmen?"

She looked at her feet, her little face turning red. "Ours is quite nice, and I know Papa likes it... but, well, it's so crowded and away from people." She raised her head to meet Mr. Kringle's gaze again. "Do you think a miracle like this can come true?" she asked earnestly. "I do so want to see a real miracle."

Her question moved him. "I do think it can,. but Carmen, just because something doesn't come true doesn't mean it's not possible. We have to remember that what happens is for our good." He looked outside. "I think you'd best be going home now. It looks like a snow storm might be coming." He gave her back her drawing. "I hope you see your miracle," he told her sincerely. She smiled brightly. "Thank you, Mr. Kringle. Have a nice day!" Waving, she turned and left. He watched her until she disappeared from his sight, praying fervently that she would witness a Christmas miracle.

o0o

"Carmen? Carmen, where are you?" Christine called anxiously. Her little daughter was nowhere to be found. _Where could she be?_

Suddenly, the door closed. She rushed to greet and scold her daughter, but for the first time in her life, she was disappointed that Erik was the one to walk through the door.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he took off his coat, seeing her worried expression.

"I can't find Carmen anywhere!" Christine wailed. "I don't know how long she has been gone, or..." she broke off as Erik placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Is William here?" he demanded.

"Yes, and that's why I'm so worried! She has never run off without being persuaded by William first. I asked him, but he doesn't know where she is, either." Frantically, she covered her face with her hands. "I'm such a bad mother," she moaned. "I never should have let her out of my sight!"

"Stop," Erik ordered quietly. "You aren't a bad mother. I'll go and look for her. There can only be so many places where a little girl might be hiding."

Just then, the door opened again, and to both parents' relief, a shivering Carmen entered the house. Crying out, Christine quickly knelt down and hugged her fiercely. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, young lady! I was worried sick about you!"

"I'm sorry, Mama," the little girl replied, her teeth chattering. "I... I went to go visit Mr. Kringle and ask him something since the Girands only live a couple of blocks away."

"That was very wrong of you, Carmen," her father said severely. "The streets of Paris are no place for a little girl."

She nodded miserably. "I _am _sorry, Papa," she apologized. "Can... if you aren't too mad, may I have something warm to drink? I'm so cold." As if to prove her point, she erupted into a coughing fit. Instantly, her mother went to make her some tea. Erik knelt in front of her. "Are you alright?" he gently inquired. She shook her head. "My chest and throat hurt, Papa," she answered in a raspy voice. "And, I'm so tired."

More than just concerned, he led her to his armchair. Placing her in his lap, he held her close and hoped the fire would help warm her icy skin. Christine entered to find her husband tightly holding his daughter and Carmen fast asleep. "Poor dear... it's hard to be angry with her when she's so tired," she said sympathetically.

"I'm afraid it's more than just drowsiness," he replied grimly. "Come feel her forehead." Christine obeyed and quickly pulled her hand back in shock. "Why, Erik, she's burning up with fever!" she exclaimed.

The look on Erik's face was terrible as he said, "Go find a physician. Now." Christine didn't hesitate, for the fear in her husband's expression and voice struck terror into her heart. Praying fervently, she left the little house.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Christine and William sat anxiously in the parlor while the physician attended to Carmen. Several minutes had passed that felt like hours. Erik had insisted that they stay out of the room due to the danger of Carmen's illness being contagious. Christine asked why he was allowed to be with Carmen if the sickness could be dangerous, but he impatiently said that his extraordinary immune system could handle it. Though Christine continued to adamantly protest, he wouldn't hear otherwise, leaving her and their son banned from the little girl's room.

"Mama, why won't Papa let us be in the room with them?" Christine turned to see William sitting in another chair, a concerned look upon his young face. Despite his incredible intellect, he was still a little boy, and he was afraid for his sister. Neither of the children had ever had a sickness that required a doctor, and never had he been seperated from his sister by one.

"Papa is just making sure that you don't become sick, too," his mother explained. William didn't seem to accept that answer, for he scowled and said, "I'd rather take the sickness from her. I'm stronger, so it wouldn't bother me as much." Christine smiled at him tiredly. "I know, dear. Believe me, I wish I was sick instead of your sister, too."

Finally, Erik and the physician entered the room. Erik's pale face automatically made Christine's heart sink. "What is it?" she whispered, not quite able to find her voice.

"Your daughter has a fever," the doctor began.

"Yes, yes, we know this," interrupted William impatiently. For once, his parents didn't reprimand him for his lack of manners.

"Carmen is very sick," said Erik. "Her temperature is rising, and she's having trouble breathing. Also, she keeps having coughing fits."

Christine swallowed hard. "What's there to be done?" she asked.

The doctor shook his head. "To be frank, madame, there's not much I can do." She stared at him in horror, not fully processing his words. "Keep her hydrated and keep her warm. I have some medicine for her coughing that I'll give you, but unless her fever breaks..." He didn't need to finish his sentence, for it was obvious on the small family's faces that they understood that Carmen was in a great deal of danger. After giving them the medicine, the doctor left. All Christine wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry, but she knew that would upset William even further.

"I want to see her," she begged Erik. He seemed to refuse at first, but after second thought, he took her hand. William jumped up and began to follow them, but they both turned around and sternly said, "No, William!" Scowling, he returned to his seat, muttering that his parents were being cruel.

Carmen was in her bed, her normally cheeks deathly pale. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Christine took one of her hands. "Hello, princess," she whispered. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm really tired, Mama," was the girl's faint reply. "I just want to go to sleep forever."

Fear clutched at Christine's heart. "You can't sleep for forever, love; you have to stay here with your Papa, William, and me, alright?"

"Yes, Mama," she said with a yawn. Then, her eyelids closed, and she was asleep.

Erik wordlessly led Christine to their bedroom and sat her in his lap. She buried her face in his chest and began to cry. "This is all my fault," she sobbed. "If I had been paying attention, she never would have been out in the cold."

"Christine," said Erik soothingly, though his own hands were shaking, "it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself."

"What are we going to do?" asked his wife in a trembling voice. He closed his eyes, hating the sound of her tears. And, for the first time, he couldn't chase them away. "I don't know, Christine. I don't know."

o0o

Carmen's health didn't improve as the days passed. On Christmas Eve, Christine was cleaning up after their noon meal when someone knocked on the door. She opened it to see Robert, Meg, their boys, and Mr. Kringle standing there. Meg and Christine were hugging in a moment. "Oh, my dear," she said, tears in her eyes. "I wish you had told us sooner."

"We hoped she would be well by now," was Christine's broken answer. "But, she's only growing worse. I don't know what to do, Meg! I can't lose her."

"You can start by getting some rest," came Robert's deep voice, full of sympathy. "Meg and I are here to help. Elijah and Anthony can keep William company, and Mr. Kringle has offered to supervise them."

"Is Carmen going to die?" asked Elijah anxiously.

"Elijah!" exclaimed Meg. Christine shook her head. "No, Meg, it's quite alright." She took a deep breath. "Elijah... I pray without ceasing that she'll be healed, but I can't honestly say that she's going to be alright."

"I feel as though I'm to blame," Mr. Kringle said, pain in his expression. "Carmen came to ask me about a special Christmas miracle. I didn't know she was out alone; if I had known..."

Christine offered him her hand. "Please, Mr. Kringle, you are not to blame," she told him gently. "Carmen knows better than to wander around on her own."

"And, it's quite rare that she disobeys her parents... unless someone is there to coax her along." Everyone turned to see Erik standing in the doorway, his eyes filled with fury.

Robert cleared his throat. "Boys, why don't you go find William? I'm sure he could use his friends right now." Elijah and Anthony needed no further urging, and in moments, they were out of sight. Meg tugged on Christine's sleeve. "Come, Christine; let's retire to the parlor," she suggested. While Erik had become better about his temper in the last ten years, he looked as though he could strangle Mr. Kringle at that moment. Christine shook her head. "Thank you, Meg, but..."

"Go, Christine," ordered Erik without looking at her. "I have some words to exchange with Mr. Kringle." His voice was cold and sent shivers down her spine, but there was no arguing with him when he was in such a state. After giving the men a nervous look, she followed Meg to the parlor.

For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then, Robert began, "Erik, perhaps we can..."

"There's no smoothing this over with eloquent words, Robert," the masked man snarled. "My children start spending time with your groom, and what happens? They start going against my wishes and sneaking off alone through the streets of Paris." He glared at the elderly man. "Have you anything to say for yourself? You have fed my children fairy-tales about miracles and magic. Unless you have some kind of magic with you that can heal my daughter, I want you out of my home and to stay away from my family."

Mr. Kringle heard Erik's angry words without a single protest. When he was finished, he bowed his head. "As you wish," he said calmly. Then, he turned to Mr. Girand. "It seems as though I will no longer be able to maintain my position with you."

"Mr. Kringle!" protested Robert, shocked. But, the elderly man only smiled slightly and shook his head. "I can't stay where I will only cause turmoil. I appreciate all that you and your wife have done for me." He turned to leave, but then, he stopped and met Erik's burning gaze. "I sincerely hope little Carmen will be alright. I will be praying for you all." With that, he was gone.

"See what you've done, Erik!" accused Robert angrily. "He was homeless before he started working for us! He has nothing!"

Erik didn't reply at first. Then, in a quiet voice, he replied, "It matters not to me. Nothing will change. There are no miracles, and I'm going to lose my little girl." At that moment, in the first time since Robert had known him, he saw Erik cry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Christine and Meg were sitting with Carmen. The little girl was barely conscious, and she had been talking to the two women about the garden she was going to plant in the spring. They listened while smiling and nodding, but Christine felt ice-cold. She had believed so firmly in the magic of Christmas, but where was that magic now that her precious daughter was so terribly ill?

"Mama?"

"Yes, princess?" Carmen coughed and wheezed for a moment. The women winced; her breathing was so shallow. "Mama, I need to talk to Mr. Kringle."

"Carmen," began Christine. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Papa... well, he doesn't want you to see Mr. Kringle anymore."

"_Please, _Mama!" The little girl's eyes filled with tears. "Please? I need to ask him something. It's very important."

Christine exchanged glances with Meg. She didn't think Erik would allow it, but she had to try. "Alright, dear," she promised. "I'll go talk to your Papa." She kissed her forehead tenderly. "Will you stay here with her?" she asked Meg.

"Of course," Meg replied. With a grateful attempt at a smile, Christine left the bedroom. She found Erik in the parlor alone. She supposed Robert must have gone to supervise the boys since her own husband had sent Mr. Kringle away.

"How is she?" Erik asked immediately.

"Not any better," Christine confessed. Sitting down next to him, she slowly began to bring up the subject that she knew would upset her husband. "Erik, Carmen is asking for Mr. Kringle," she informed him quietly. "I think you ought to ask him to come back."

He shook his head. "No."

"Please, Erik!" Christine begged.

"No, Christine! I can't do it."

"Think of your daughter!" she snapped angrily. It wasn't often that she crossed her husband, but the possibility of Carmen being on her deathbed made her keep trying. "Carmen could be _dying, _Erik." Her voice shook, and her eyes became filled with tears. "Is preserving your pride worth denying your daughter when she asks for so little?"

He didn't answer at first. Then, he lifted his head and met Christine's gaze wearily. "I will go," he said. "I will try to find Mr. Kringle, and I will beg him to come back if needed."

Christine kissed his cheek. "Thank you, darling." She took his hand and squeezed it. "I love you."

"I love you too, my angel. It seems as though I can never win without giving into you anymore." He quickly kissed her, rose and put on his coat, and left. Once he was gone, Christine remained sitting. She didn't see William enter the room.

"Mama, where is Papa?" He padded over to her and climbed into her lap. She put her arms around him and answered, "Papa is going to look for a miracle, William."

"But, I thought Papa doesn't believe in miracles?" asked the little boy incredulously. She kissed his forehead. "It doesn't matter right now if he believes or not, William; he's going to keep looking until he finds one. Maybe, after he finds one, he will believe."

o0o

Erik searched everywhere possible for Mr. Kringle, but he couldn't find him. Deperate, he spotted a church nearby. _Why not? _He entered the small building quietly. Looking around, he saw that the dimly lit sanctuary was empty save for one man. When he looked closer, he recognized Mr. Kringle's tattered coat. He made his way to the front pew and sat next to the elderly man.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he said. Mr. Kringle smiled. "There is one place you can be assured of finding me, and that is here, in God's house."

"God's house," Erik spat. "Where is God right now? If He is there, why is He causing my little girl to suffer?"

"Perhaps He's trying to get your attention, Erik," replied the old man. "Have you tried talking to Him?"

Erik swallowed. "No, I haven't," was his soft answer. "I don't think He would listen even if I did, though."

"And, why is that?" For some reason, Erik couldn't meet his eyes. "Erik, you can't expect a miracle if you don't ask for it. Yes, He might perform one anyway, but you need to ask him for one."

"If He spares Carmen, I'll believe," the masked man stated sadly. Mr. Kringle nodded. "Good. Just remember that it's His goodness that will spare your daughter, not a need to prove Himself to you or anyone else. You see, I was once where you are now. I was poor and without a family. Then, I stumbled into a church and met a priest. He told me of God's love, and I have known Him as my father ever since." He leaned back thoughtfully. "Carmen told me she wanted to witness a miracle. Perhaps she'll be that very miracle."

Erik cleared his throat. "Speaking of Carmen... she has been asking for you. I would like for you to come see her. And, I would like for you to accept my apologies for my earlier behavior."

"There is nothing to forgive," said the elderly man kindly as he rose from his seat. "I will be on my way at once. Will you be accompanying me?" Erik shook his head. "I... I have some thinking to do," he replied.

Mr. Kringle smiled. "Very well." Then, he left Erik to himself.

The masked man sat for a long time in that sanctuary, his head in his hands. He thought about everything Mr. Kringle had told him. Surely God couldn't forgive him. He was punishing him for all of his evil deeds by taking his little girl away.

Yet... he had also believed that he would never be loved. Christine had changed that, sweeping into his life and captivating him with her shy smile and golden voice. And, Carmen and William had been given to him, little miracles in their own right. Bowing his head and weeping, Erik prayed for the first time in his life. "My God, my God, forgive me!"


	8. Chapter 8

**I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a goodnight!**

**Chapter Eight**

Mr. Kringle looked down at Carmen sadly. She looked very weak, and he knew her time could be short. Breathing a quick prayer, he leaned over and whispered, "Carmen? I'm here." Her large brown eyes opened, and the smile she gave him touched his old heart. "I knew you would come," she said simply. "Mama told me that Papa would find you."

"Yes, he did find me." Placing a chair by her bed, he sat down. "I hear you wanted to speak with me." She nodded. "I have another question to ask you, but I thought I should get help instead of going to you this time." He chuckled. "I think that was a wise decision on your part. Now, what do you want to ask me?"

"Well," she began. "I wanted to ask... if maybe a miracle could happen for me?"

"Oh, Carmen," he sighed. "I don't want your hopes to get too high..."

"I know that I might not be alright," she told him in a voice that was better suited for an adult rather than an eight-year-old girl. "But, I'm worried about my Papa, Mr. Kringle. I don't think he knows Jesus."

He smiled. "I was just with your father at the church. I can't be certain, but I think he's going to be alright with God now."

"Good. I'm glad." She closed her eyes. "I think I'd like to sleep now. Please send Papa in to see me once he's home. Goodnight, Mr. Kringle."

"Goodnight, Carmen," he whispered. After she fell asleep, he went into the parlor. Christine and Meg were sitting, exhaustion evident on their faces.

"Is she asleep now?" Christine asked. "Yes ma'am," he replied. "She wants her father to go see her when he comes back."

"It's nearly midnight," Meg murmured. "You really ought to rest, Christine."

The brunette shook her head. "I can't sleep. She might need me."

"I agree with Mrs. Girand," voiced Mr. Kringle. "We'll wake you if there's any change."

Even Christine couldn't deny that she was weary and her muscles ached. She rose. "If you are quite sure..." However, she was interrupted by Erik's arrival.

"How is she?" he asked immediately.

"She's the same," returned his wife. "She wants to see you."

He bent down and kissed her softly. "Go and rest, love. I'll go see her now." He walked to Carmen's bedroom and lightly tapped on the door. Seeing his daughter stir, he quietly entered the room. "I'm here, princess."

Yawning and rubbing her eyes, she sat up in her bed. "Thank you for finding Mr. Kringle, Papa," she said. "I really needed to know something."

"I know, precious." He sat in the chair and took her hand. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little," she answered with a smile. "But, I have something I need to tell you."

"I'm listenening." She squeezed his hand and continued. "Papa, I want you to celebrate Christmas this year."

Her request threw him. "Carmen, you know I don't like to celebrate holidays."

"But, Papa, this one is so important!" she pressed urgently. "It would mean so much to me and Mama and William. Please?" Her doe-brown eyes that were exact replicas of her mother's pleaded with him, and he couldn't deny her. "I promise I will." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Now, it's time for you to go to bed."

She smiled again. "Goodnight, Papa. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Carmen," he said with a lump in his throat. He stayed with her once she was sleeping. She looked so... peaceful. Instantly, a peace he couldn't understand entered his heart. "Thank you, Lord."

o0o

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke several hours later in the same chair in Carmen's bedroom. Automatically, we reached over and felt her forehead. What he felt - or rather, what he _didn't _feel - stunned him. Quickly, he went into his bedroom and woke his wife.

"Christine! Christine, you need to come see Carmen now."

She was instantly awake, her eyes wide with fear. "What is it, Erik? Is she..."

"Come and see," was his cryptic response. They hurriedly made their way to their daughter's room. Christine looked at Erik in a questioning manner. "Feel her," he instructed. Carefully, she placed her hand on Carmen's forehead. All of the burning fire of the fever was gone, leaving a natural warmth. The little girl was also breathing more evenly. Christine's other hand moved to cover her mouth. "Erik, the sickness! It's... can it really be gone?"

He smiled tenderly at his wife and put his arm around her. "Yes, Christine. I daresay it's a miracle."

o0o

That evening, the little family sat in the parlor... _all _of them. Carmen was being held in her father's lap, and his arms were wrapped around her as if he'd never let her go again.

"Mr. Kringle was right!" William announced. "Christmas _is _the time for miracles!"

"I just hope next year's miracle is more... minor," murmured Christine, making everyone laugh. Erik kissed his little girl on the cheek. "It looks as though you did witness your miracle, precious," he said. Carmen smiled back at him. "No, Papa," she told him. "You celebrating Christmas with us is my miracle."

"Well, I have another surprise for all of you." Three pairs of eyes eagerly watched the masked man as he managed to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket. Then, he held it up for all to see. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

"It looks like a house," observed William. Carmen grabbed the piece of paper, looked at it, and shrieked, "It's my house! Papa, it's the house I drew for Mr. Kringle!"

"Yes, princess. He helped me find it. We'll be moving there after the start of the new year." His eyes met Christine's as he added, "I thought it was about time we found a new place to live/"

"Papa! Erik!" was heard as the small and joyful group laughed. Indeed, it was a Christmas that none of them ever forgot.

o0o

"Are you sure about this?" asked Christine as she snuggled in next to her husband. "I know being in the opera house is important to you, Erik."

He was silent for a moment, absent-mindedly stroking her hair. Then, he said, "It _was _important to me. But, almost losing Carmen made me realize that I need to put my family above myself. Quietly, he added, "You never know when they won't be with you anymore."

She smiled at him. "I'm so proud of you, darling." He kissed her on the nose. "And, I'm proud of you for being the amazing woman that you are, love." Then, she rested his head on his chest and closed her eyes. "Goodnight, Erik."

"Goodnight, my own living miracle."

_End._


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